


Summer Skin

by Faustkomskaikru



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I did it again, Smoking, Weed, it's short, oopsie, soft sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:07:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6812602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustkomskaikru/pseuds/Faustkomskaikru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which High School girlfriends Clarke and Lexa smoke during a summer storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, but meh, thought I'd share.  
> I can only recommand that you listen to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxoSiYlpZrg while reading. Completes the whole aesthetic.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy my lovely ones. Also, you know the drill, got any prompts? @ ifwearestrangers on Tumblr.

Summer is probably Lexa’s favorite season. You may think it’s because it means no school, sun, skinny dipping and lounging in the Griffin’s house pool. And those are perfectably acceptable reasons that make the soon-to-be-senior love summer all the more.

  
Especially since it means she could admire Clarke’s body for hours on end, watch her swim, dying to become droplets of water that live and die on perfect cleavage. What a brief, magical life that would be.

  
But no, those aren’t the main reasons. Oddly, what Lexa loves the most about it are the summer storms. When the heat becomes too much, too suffocating, and the sky just seems to crack up under the tension and release it down, pouring rain, lightning and thunder, all of it.

  
There’s nothing more soothing and relaxing than watching the clouds gather up and explode.

  
Right now is one of those moment, and Clarke, leaning on the doorframe of her mother’s living room is awestruck, looking at the peace on Lexa’s face. She’s grateful her mother is on an twenty-four hours shift at the hospital because an empty house is her favorite thing to share with her girlfriend.

  
The thunder is loud and the lightning almost blinding. The coulds are so thick and low in the sky, the rain so dense that it almost feels like night has fallen, when in fact, it is merely noon. There’s a small lamp on the coffee table, it glows softly on the brunette’s face.

  
Clarke walks to the iPod dock to put on some chilly music. What she knows to be Lexa’s favorite thing to listen to in these kind of moments. When the soft music fill the room, Lexa closes her eyes.

  
“You just made this moment even more perfect.”

  
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe.”

  
The blonde retrieves a pre-rolled joint from her bag, opens the window facing the couch, and the deep sound of the rain and thunder mix with the music. The warmth fill the room, and occasionally, there’s a drop of water that enters the house and finds them.

  
Clarke sits on Lexa’s legs, knees on each sides of her hips. Hands immediately find heated skin.

  
“You were right, it just got infinitely better.”

  
“Lexa, I must repeat.. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  
And the words, uttered lowly, send shivers down the brunette’s spine.

  
“Surprise me, then.”

Clarke doesn’t answer. She’s not a girl of words, more of actions. She’d rather show than tell, and show she will. She starts to smoke, exhaling the weed scented smoke above Lexa’s head, tilting her head back but keeping her eyes on her girlfriend.

  
When she inhales again, she leans in, and holding Lexa’s jaw with her hands, motions for her to open her mouth. The silent request is understood and seconds after, smoke is exchanged like breaths filled with tangible love.

  
It fills lungs, it penetrates blood, and it’s strong. It ends in a kiss, chaste and sweet, before the blonde pulls back and tuck the joints between Lexa’s lips, who takes another drag, long and hard.

  
A particularly loud thunder breaks the sky and Lexa shudders. There is no better feeling in the world than what she is living right now.

  
“You’re so fucking sexy, Clarke,”

  
She says just because she can. And Clarke loves it, really. So she leaves the joint hanging in Lexa’s mouth, who smokes on it again, and reach for her shirt. Slowly, ever so slowly, she unbuttons it, and slides it off her shoulders.

  
They spend a few minutes exchanging drags and breathing each others in. Sometimes they kiss, sometimes they just smoke. Soon, there is nothing more to smoke, and the quality of the stuff is definitly getting to their heads already.

  
Lexa is flying so high, she begins to wonder if she’s imagining the sight of true beauty in front of her. But she’s not, and Clarke starts to trail kisses down her neck, while her head falls on the back of the couch, her eyes stuck hazardly on the rain outside, dark skies threatening to crush the planet.

  
“It’s time for the finale.” Is said close to her ear before a bite down her pulse point makes her moan.

  
She’s helpless to what happens, Clarke sliding down, clothes leaving her body, chill air crashing against the skin of her thighs. Hands roaming, lips searching for places relentlessly. They find them, oh they do.

  
The first contact of wet lips against wet heat is like ecstasy and Lexa doesn’t even dare look down at the mess of blonde between her legs. Her moan is barely covered by the music, just muffled by the rain.

  
The dark room is filled with gasps and whimpers as Clarke teases, kiss and nips but never indulges. Lexa can’t protest, she loves it almost as much as her girlfriend does.

  
The universe might plan things, she thinks, when the first contact of tongue happens at the exact same time as the loud thunder roars again, and the mix of the two is almost enough to make Lexa come on the spot. But she wants to enjoy it longer. She doesn’t want it to end yet.

  
“Clarke,” she says, when the blonde gets indulgent, begging her to slow down, to make it last.

  
“Please,” she can’t believe she’s pleading not to come yet. She feels it coming and she doesn’t want it. Not yet, she pleads. The euphoria, the pleasure is magnificent and she wants it forever.

  
The blonde’s hands reach for Lexa’s and they squeeze, hard, once, before returning to trembling thighs that encloses Clarke’s head far too strongly. “I’ve got you,” it means, and she gets it.

  
“Clarke,” she says again, when the neverending feeling of Clarke’s tongue getting steady and strong overwhelms her. It’s just above a whisper but she knows she’s been heard.

  
“I love you,” slips from her lips when she can’t hold back anymore. They’ve never said it before. Sure they know. They feel it, but bravery hasn’t been shown from any of them and now seemed like the perfect time for Lexa. If she’s being honest, the words kind of fell from her mouth without her ever wanting them too, but now that they’re out, she doesn’t want them to ever go back in.

  
It sounds pleading and breathy because she utters them when she comes, fingers gripping blonde’s hair, head thrown back, breathing heavy and images of heaven painted behind her eyelids.

  
Long minutes pass, they feel like hours in Lexa’s stoned mind. Clarke just likes it too much down here to go back up just yet, and she needs just a little bit more time to register the words she heard. She kisses insides of thighs, stomach, she lingers and considers just diving back between her girlfriend’s legs but she has something to say first.

She climbs back, settles, kiss mouth, moans exchanging at the taste of liquid pleasure.

“I love you, too.”

Yes, summer storms are definitly Lexa’s favorite thing about that season.

**Author's Note:**

> Short and efficient, yes.


End file.
